She’s been creating desire
paths her whole life. No,

she’s been taking
the ones trampled

into being

by foxes before her. No, desire
paths have created her.

No, they’ve taken her
in the middle of the night

before she can suck all the brack
from the marsh.

No sextant to guide her
across the waves, or song

played on repeat to serenade her
in reverse—to crash away

from the rocks covered in graffiti
and muddy footprints.

The stars had nothing to do
with it. Finally, she sees

no wrong turns.
And she’s getting

dangerously close

to calling this little city
built over the scars of a falls

creek tow path home. No machine
would make such a choice.